A bee struck a hole
in my finest dress
leaving an inept millennial woman
with a household mess.
My flesh is the fabric;
you stole the song of my seams
and minced my dreams
Now I have aches voluming reams
My thumbs are pulsing cherries
from attempting to patch up my parchment
And each time I rethread the needle,
new holes are found.
Toxicity is not a challenge by which growth accompanied be
but a warning sign: ‘FLEE!’
for it is easy to earn more wounds
picking up fallen pins and stitching old frayed edges
Sumaiya Vawda is an 18-year-old student at the University of the Witwatersrand.